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...paid for everything. You didn't notice, but I did.
...suggested that we leave the bar and drink at the closed, private bar. Which we did.
...ditched the fratboy who was hitting on the blonde. I left him barfing in the greenery with a glass of water when he was done depositing 10 hours of margaritas in the foliage.
...encouraged you and the blonde to kiss.
...took pictures of you and the blonde kissing.
...sent pictures of the blonde and you kissing to Steve from Alabama. Steve from Alabama sent me the video of you and the blonde kissing.
...apologized to the manager, after he found the pitcher you'd hidden in your bag. I returned it, apologizing for my drunken friends and then walked away, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
...poured proper drinks at the bar, including three shots for myself while everyone else was rolling on the floor. I drank alone.
...mopped up the spilled beer when you were straddling my friend on the floor.
...grabbed your forearms and pulled you close to me for our first kiss, because you were too drunk to do it. I doubt you will remember it.
...found an ATM for the blonde, hailed her a cab and sent her home, while you laid groaning on the floor.
...found another cab for you and me and my friend. Got us all home. Paid for the whole trip. Absolutely uncertain that my new ATM card would get us all home. Again, you had no idea.
...gave you a goodbye kiss when you left the cab to enter your apartment building.
You didn't know it then and you won't know it for a while yet, but that was the kiss goodbye. That was the last time that we'll ever go out again.
I don't mind the drunken shenanigans. I don't mind you rolling around on the floor and making out with every girl there. I don't mind the screaming and the singing and inviting the blonde over to our table from nowhere. I just can't forgive you for not including me in all of that. For ignoring me as much as you did.
I suppose that's what I get for dating an actress... again.
Lesson learned.
Tonight, after everyone else piled out of my cab and I raced home, north on Western Ave, over the viaduct, allowing my open-palmed hand to surf on the currents of the wind, I never felt more powerfully, profoundly alive than I did, at that moment. Is it any coincidence that I had to be alone, before I finally realized how alive I was?
Goodnight, moon.
Cheers,
Mr.B
UPDATE: A more considered, reasonable perspective on this date is included in the comments below. It's fair to say that I was pretty drunk and a little upset, when I wrote this blog entry. A day later, totally sober, and the date looked like shenanigans, but not that big a deal, actually.
19 comments:
I can't tell you how refreshing it is to be dating a not-actress right now. Comes highly recommended.
But yeah, the East German judge gives a 1.6. Glad that the evening led to the cab-exiting epiphany for you, and a pic or two.
Also, it looks like your weekend strategy worked.
Sounds like a keeper.
UPDATE: I've received several phone calls and text messages today in apology for last night. The Strawberry Daquiri's are being blamed for last nights shenanigans. Bruises and Rug Burns are being catalogued and fuzzy memories are being rebuilt. (The pics help.)
She doesn't think that she "nailed the blonde" in the bathroom of the Mexican restaurant. She thinks that she said that because we were joking about tag-teaming the blonde.
Apologies have been offered. And promises that all damages will be made up to me. I was even given an open-ended offer of "How can I make it up to you?" I suggested a full blown make-out session. I haven't gotten a response to my suggestion.
So, who knows if I'll see her again. Last night, it was all annoying and loud and there was petty larceny involved and hot girl on girl action that I was not involved with. But today, it all seems ridiculous and fun and really, really dumb.
Eh, who cares, really? It was drunken shenanigans. Maybe by being graceful now and letting go of things that other people did, they'll be inclined to give me the same grace, when I end up "nailing the blonde" in the bathroom of the Mexican restaurant.
How strange is that? The girl that I was out on a date with, might've had a tequila-fueled, lesbo encounter in the bathroom of a mexican dive and I couldn't care less?
Ay Caramba!
Cheers,
Mr.B
Um, I'm an actress. I'm pretty cool to date. I'm just sayin' we're not all like that. Of course, I'm not blonde, so that might be the sinister concoction. BLONDE actresses need not apply. ;)
yeah I'd like it stated that MALE actors can be pretty self involved too. I think this is less about "dating an actress...SIGH" and more about the individual.
Sorry. I just hate lumping people in one group. I know some really stable people who are actors and some marketing professionals that are total mental cases.
anyway, i hope the second time around works out better.
Yo, ladies. Chill.
There's a type of personality that's drawn to acting. I've found that while I'm attracted to it like gangbusters and it's more fun than a barrel of goddamn monkeys, it tends to burn and shine quickly with me. One or both of us wants to kill the other within weeks. That's just not healthy.
It's not always in actors. But it's almost always in the actors I'm attracted to. So why continue to look for happiness in a place that can't provide it for me, y'know?
And I'm currently in the middle of a very happy wave of goodness, probably the best of its kind in decades. So change is proving to be good and highly recommended to folks sick of sticking their fingers into sockets. I'm all for change right now, especially if what you've got isn't working.
And yeah, prah, the only thing more neurotic than the actors I dig... are marketing professionals. Amen.
No I understand that 100%. I have been a part of that world since I was about 3 so I know the drill. My beef was more that it read like MOST to ALL actresses were drunken messes not fit to date. I just like to get on Biddle's case as much as possible. Just cuz it's fun. And he hates women so much.
KIDDING!
I would suggest that emotional instability in non-artistic types doesn't lessen the frequency of emotional instability in the lives of the artistically inclined.
I would also offer up that it's not an absolute rule. Alibear says that she's no crazy mo-fo and I think I know her well enough to agree with her. But she's the exception to the rule.
Healthy people aren't attracted to the arts. They aren't compelled to put on dumb costumes and act like cartoon characters for attention. Something has to be emotionally wrong for a person to have the compulsion to become a performer. You're seeking attention from someone that you never got in childhood. Something is missing that people try to fill up with audience approval.
And these same people can go YEARS without ever doing any sort of self-diagnosis. They stumble through life, acting irresponsibly and doing damage to other people, without ever stopping and saying, "Hey, maybe I'm a little out of control, here. Maybe I am acting in unhealthy ways. Maybe the common link in all of this long chain of failed relationships is me."
Happens all the time. I run into it, all the time. I am giving VERY serious thought to outlawing dating actresses, no matter how good they look. (And they DO look good, man.) I'm thinking about trying my luck out in the private sector. There's no guarantees that those girls aren't going to be nuts, as well, but it's less of a guarantee.
Cheers,
Mr.B
so do you feel that way about yourself since you are an actor or do you think you are another exception?
That's a fair question. I'll give you an honest response.
I think that the endless string of relationships behind me indicates that I've had some pretty unhealthy patterns in my past, as well.
I have a pretty good grasp of what they are. And some of them, I've managed to get under control as I've gotten older.
I used to be pretty flighty about relationships. I would date someone and then some other girl would flirt me up and I would break up with the first girl and go out with the second one.
I would be absolutely unforgiving about any transgression, of any sort. (I still struggle with this one. I know that I can write someone off, if I need to, but I try to vet the situation to see if it's actually warranted or not.)
I could be emotionally cold to people if they hurt my feelings.
I've been vindictive in love to women that have hurt me before.
I can also be a little sensitive, seeing offense where none was intended. (I still struggle with this one, but have gotten better about it.)
I also used to have a pretty bad temper. Quick to anger and ovr-reactive to things that angered me. (I've gotten A LOT better about that.)
All of those things were my own neurosis. I think that they argue pretty well for my theory. I'm a good example of why people shouldn't date actors or actresses. Nice people. Good in bed. (REALLY good in bed.) But ultimately flawed and bound to fuck it up, sooner or later, when their neurosis gets the better of them.
That's my most honest response.
Cheers,
Mr.B
PS. I don't mind this discussion. Or being asked this. Or having my balls busted a little bit here. I know you, Prah. And I trust you. Even IF you're a no-good, lyin', cheatin', back-stabbin', varmint of a woman.
That is a good answer. You're hired! Just kidding. I have no job to offer.
I think you are correct on many counts and I would be lying if I said that getting out of acting wasn't partially due to the inherant drama in the social circle. I just was making sure we were being even stevens on MALE actors being potentially nuts in matters of love too. I'm a libra. I crave balance.
:)
Stage Manger going to weigh in... I've been around actors since I was 14. I've loved them, hated them and all places in between...
But the older I've gotten the more I've found the very truth in what Biddle is saying. I am a great friend to many actors because my very nature and my job calls for me to pay attention to them, to do for them... to shine the light on them as it were. And actors love that. Not that they don't give in return, but their very nature is to be in front. nothing worng with that... just a simple truth.
I've even talked about this before with Biddle... two actors are a heady mix, fire and heat but then that burns... there is no one to take the backstage role, the support system as it were. they both want to be lead all the time and that just can't last long term.
Thank you, Mr. B. I do appreciate that. I think it helps that I've done many parts in theatre, not just acting. The Stage Manager side definitely fills the responsible support system Bran was talking about. Also, the writer side does the self-editing that is often lacking. I think knowing there's more to the show/relationship than my being the lead or the center of attention has helped me have long lasting relationships. Now, if someone can just beat the hell out of the notion in my head that I can FIX everything, well, then I'm on the way to pure greatness! I am still learning the failure thing is OK. Even in relationships. Although, Mr. B knows Wolter and with their common love of Bowie/Queen karaoke, I think there's approval there. I'm assuming, but I'm hoping I'm right. Miss you Mr. B.
wait just a sec.
"...encouraged you and the blonde to kiss.
...took pictures of you and the blonde kissing.
...sent pictures of the blonde and you kissing to Steve from Alabama. Steve from Alabama sent me the video of you and the blonde kissing."
So you encourage a girl to make out with a stranger, take pictures of it, send it to a friend..ON YOUR FIRST DATE...and you're upset because SHE is being self-indulgent and nuts?
Do you honestly see a future with this girl? Are you really surprised that there wasn't an emotional connection?
Jus' playin devil's advocate here...
Oh Devils Advocate...
You're a hoot.
Here's my official-like response.
First, it was our second date and the third or fourth time we've hung out. Also, we've known each other for five or six months now, as we've taken class together. So, a history is established. This wasn't our first rodeo.
Second, the kissy-face with The Blonde wasn't the issue. After as many margaritas as we all had, a little kissy-face with a stranger is no big deal.
The larger issue was the "nailing" that she did with The Blonde in the bathroom and then the post-nailing period of time, when I wasn't nailed in the bathroom.
Or tackled on the floor.
Or dry-humped by "her big cock".
Or held down while someone simulated a blowjob on me.
Or gratuitously and frequently made out with.
All of those things happened (and more) but I wasn't involved. I was taking a picture with my cell phone or sitting on the floor right next to the heavy making out, or getting shots by myself at the bar, which was right next to the tackling and the blowjobbing. As fun and as wild as the night was, I was noticeably ostracized from the activities.
The one time that we did kiss, it was because she wandered over to me and I thought, "Well, if THIS is the sort of evening that we're having, then I want in on the action too", so I took her by the arm, turned her to me, pulled her close and we kissed. Nothing forceful. She could've broken the pull, very easily if she wanted to, but she kissed me back. And she bit my tongue for a second and then she pulled back from me and turned back to the group and wandered off to play with the kids again.
I stood there, alone at the bar, again, took another shot and thought, "Hm, this is NOT the sort of date that I envisioned."
The truth of the matter is... this girls is just not that into me. I get it. It's no mistake that it's been 36 hours since these shenanigans and after an initial round of texts and phone calls, checking in, there's been no communication from her.
Joe says that she's embarrassed. For my part, I've done nothing to make her feel badly about it. She doesn't read this blog. She doesn't even know it exists. All of our communication after the event was positive and light. She DID make apologies, which I accepted, but gracefully, reassuring her that everything was fine. And even the hurt feelings that I felt when I initially posted this... are pretty much mellowed out now.
I think that the reason I haven't heard from her is that we're just too different and there wasn't any chemistry between us. And that my body type just doesn't appeal to a former massage therapist/ yoga instructor. And that's something that I need to work on, in the coming months. (Hello, Gym Pass at Welles Park!)
In summation to your fine post, Devil's Advocate, it isn't the shenanigans that was the problem. I DID encourage shenanigans. But I thought that I might be included in the shenanigans and I just wasn't. And that hurts, a little bit. And the hurt became frustration and that was what was captured in this ill-conceived, drunken post.
Cheers,
Mr.B
I just wanna know what kind of bar let's people roll around on the floor dry humping.
A closed one.
That a friend of mine owns/manages.
And the self-same friend was also trashed on the margaritas that I had been buying all night.
She had just enough time to open up her bar and turn off the alarm code before my date tackled her and dry-humped her into the floor.
It was just one of those kinds of nights, I guess...
Cheers,
Mr.B
Anonymous is right. What a creepshow. You're like a talking boner with a monocle on, pretending to be civilized when you just want to fuck everything in your field of vision.
Hi there, Anonymous.
Normally I wouldn't bother posting an anonymous dig from some chicken-shit troll. (That's the technical term for people who troll blogs and message boards, dropping judgements on people and generally pissing on the users there.) But you're making a judgement about me and I want to address it with total honesty.
Before I do, I should quickly mention that I won't pursue this further with you, unless you identify yourself. This will be your last anonymous dig at me. I'll just delete the rest of them, okay? If you actually want to say something negative about me, here, say it with your name attached or keep it to yourself. (And for the record, the number of anonymous digs on me are really, really low. In the 2 years + that I've been blogging, yours is the third such post.)
Additionally, I have SiteTracker on my blog. You have to know that I'm going to identify you and your IP address, don't you? I'll know where you are, how you found my blog, other sites that you visit, and I'll note every time you visit my blog, going forward. I'll label your IP address as Mr. Monocle Boner and keep a close eye on you.
Now that we've got the formalities out of the way, let me actually address your comments.
You have no idea who or what I really am.
The only information that you have is what I CHOOSE to give you, here.
And currently, your information is limited to the extreme situations that I've found myself blogging about.
And it's summer and of course I'm feeling a little randy these days - isn't it a grace that I openly share it here on the blog?
The truth is... I am human. I am both a living, erotic, aware human being and a loving, caring, open partner. I both the boner AND the monocle-wearing civilized man, depending on how I am feeling on a given day. I am accepting and aware of both states of being (and numerous other states of being as well - I am also a son, a leader, a pet owner, a roommate, a best friend, an actor, a supporter and several other titles.)
If you want to write me off as "Person Labeled", you're welcome to do that. Just be aware that you do that too often and you'll end up A.) isolated by your own disdain for the frailties of the people in your life and B.) frequently surprised and frustrated as people don't always live up to the labels that you give them. But hey, that's your cross to bear, not mine.
There's this girl, right now, who only wants to fuck me. That's it. Nothing but. Just straight up, no-strings-attached, conversation-free, dating-free full-on, marathon monkey-sex. And this is an attractive girl, too. And she's damned good at it. She has tricks that your limited imagination couldn't even process. In short, the ideal partner if I really was the person that you think that I am.
Except I'm not.
We tried the NSA monkey-sex whenever we could, for a few weeks and then I found that I couldn't do it anymore. I ended it.
Because the truth of what I want, is a stable, loving, monogomous relationship with a healthy, open, loving woman. (Age is negotiable. Body type is negotiable.) I want a friend first, that transitions into being a partner and a lover.
In short, the same thing that pretty much every other human being wants.
If thinking that girls kissing is hot, makes me a pervert in your mind, I can live with that. It's been my experience that pretty much every other guy feels the same way. So, we'll all go down together, on that one.
In summation, you're wrong. You've isolated a little bit of information, made your moral pronouncement and passed final judgement and have missed everything else. I would worry more about it, if I actually knew who you were or what possible effect you'll have on my life. I'm cool with irrelevant people not liking me.
So that's where we are. Making our best possible guesses about each other, using the little bit of info that we have about each other. If you wish to continue the discussion, you'll have to identify yourself from this point going forward. I'm disinterested in posting the petty, dismissive rants of anonymous trolls. Let's try to limit this to my own petty, dismissive rants.
I should tell you that I really enjoyed your comment and giving myself permission to respond to it here. Thank you for that particular experience.
Cheers,
Mr.B
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